


like a real family

by thisisthefamilybusiness



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fake Science, Family Fluff, Fluff, Happy Ending, Married Life, Motherhood, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, here it is at last: something that's just total happiness without even a trace of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 04:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11006337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthefamilybusiness/pseuds/thisisthefamilybusiness
Summary: By the time Fareeha ambles into the clinic, still too sleep-drunk to keep pace with her wife, Angela's leaning back on an exam table, black shirt tucked up to below her breasts."If you just wanted to get laid, Angie, why did you make me get out of bed?" Fareeha grumbles."Give me a moment," Angela says, rolling her eyes. She tugs one of the holoscreens closer to her and picks up the sonographic wand, pressing it over her belly.Fareeha's heart skips a beat.With a smile, Angela flips the holoscreen so Fareeha can see the image.Fareeha's mouth goes dry, unable to form any words. She just grins at the blurry black and white image on the screen, traces the outline with a fingertip.(Fill for a prompt on overwatch_kink that asked for Pharah and Mercy starting a family, and Pharah being very protective and caring towards her very pregnant wife.)





	like a real family

**Author's Note:**

> There are some weird problems with the font AO3 uses and non-English characters, so the Arabic Anglicizations aren't in the same font as the rest of the work. Sorry about it, I hope it doesn't distract too much.

"I have a surprise for you," Angela murmurs into Fareeha's ear, trying to tug her out of bed by her hand.

Fareeha groans and peeks a single eye open. Of course, Angela's already been dressed and up for the day for two hours now--the medbay and clinic open at 8, and even after a mission Fareeha could never convince her to take a break. "What is it?"

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, schätzeli." Angela is beaming at her, and Fareeha has never had the will to deny her wife anything. "It won't take very long."

"Alright, alright," Fareeha sighs, shoving the duvet off and rummaging around under the bed for her slippers. "I'm coming."

By the time Fareeha ambles into the clinic, still too sleep-drunk to keep pace with her wife, Angela's leaning back on an exam table, black shirt tucked up to below her breasts.

"If you just wanted to get laid, Angie, why did you make me get out of bed?" Fareeha grumbles.

"Give me a moment," Angela says, rolling her eyes. She tugs one of the holoscreens closer to her and picks up the sonographic wand, pressing it over her belly.

Fareeha's heart skips a beat.

With a smile, Angela flips the holoscreen so Fareeha can see the image.

Fareeha's mouth goes dry, unable to form any words. She just grins at the blurry black and white image on the screen, traces the outline with a fingertip.

"I wanted to tell you earlier, but there was too high of a chance that it would fail or I would miscarry. But she must be like you, she's strong. Held on," Angela says.

Fareeha just nods, blinking back tears as she drops to her knees and presses soft kisses to Angela's belly. "Hello there," she whispers reverently. It had all been worth it. All the soreness and bruises from the extractions, all the uncertainty she'd felt--not that she'd doubted Angela for a moment when she said she could do it--but now, in this moment, it was worth it. The treatments and experiments had all been worth it.

God, she and Angela were going to be a family. A real family.

* * *

"Mm, are you okay?" Fareeha asks, tucking herself against Angela's body, hands sliding down to the gentle swell of her belly.

Angela sighs. "Just sore." She burrows her head into her pillow.

"Let me help you." Fareeha pushes Angela's oversized sleep shirt up, fingers carefully massaging the taut skin of the bump.

"She was moving earlier. Nothing you could feel from the outside yet, though." Angela yawns and closes her eyes. "That feels nice," she murmurs.

"How big is she now?"

"Eleven centimeters, approximately. About a, hm, _rääbe_?" Angela pauses, trying to think of a translation. "Those... white and purple vegetables. What are they called?"

"A turnip?" Fareeha guesses.

"Ah! Yes! A turnip. Baby has taken much of my brain power, I think."

Fareeha giggles and nestles into the crook of her wife's neck, fingers still working to relax the tense muscles.

"We should tell your mother soon," Angela says. "We can't hide from her forever."

"But we could try."

"You know she'd be excited, härzli. She loves children."

Fareeha grumbles under her breath. "Of course. And we'd never get a free minute again from Mama Ana."

"Mm. But she'd love to babysit. That will be invaluable."

"If you say so."

* * *

Ana is in the rec room watching her soap operas and drinking tea when Fareeha finally gathers the courage to talk to her mother.

"Mom," Fareeha starts, anxiety flooding her body. "I want to talk."

"Oh, why?" Ana innocently blinks up about her daughter, setting her teacup down on its saucer, and Fareeha suddenly suspects Ana is hiding something.

"I have some news. Angela and I are going to be parents."

Ana smiles. "I already knew, _ḥabībti_."

Fareeha narrows her eyes. "Did you, now?"

"A mother's instinct."

"Doubtful."

"Angela also got taken off all the mission rosters," Ana admits. "And she keeps trying to hide her belly with clipboards and data pads when I see her. Not a difficult thing to guess." There's a gleam in Ana's eyes that make Fareeha regret not sweeping Angela off to some far-flung safe house to have the baby. "Now, what is my grandchild going to be named? Of course, I would like to suggest Ana..."

* * *

"Now I don't mean to start nothing by this, but, uh, ya may wanna check on yer wife," McCree says, poking his head into the gym, where Fareeha was mid-pull-up. "She's, uh, in a lil' bit of a spit with Genji."

Fareeha hurriedly wipes her face with her towel and starts jogging towards the clinic, without sparing a word to McCree. Angela's moods had been all over the place lately, especially with the stress of deciding where exactly they'd be raising this baby.

As McCree had said, Angela was indeed fighting with Genji, though "fighting" was a bit of a misnomer for "swatting Genji with his own disconnected, visibly damaged prosthetic right arm."

"You--stupid--boy," Angela shouts, punctuating each word with a slap from Genji's hand. "This--body--cost--thousands--and--thousands--of--dollars--to--build! And--you--just--jumped--out--of--a--helicopter--without--even--thinking!"

Genji, for his part, is very patiently enduring this, though he also looks is a little terrified, if the way he perks up upon seeing Fareeha enter is any indication.

Angela notices Genji brighten a little and turns around, brows furrowed and Genji's arm clutched in her hands like a weapon. But upon seeing Fareeha, the rage melts away, and Angela instead bursts into tears, Genji's broken arm dropped to the floor.

It breaks Fareeha's heart, and whatever brief sympathy she'd had for Genji is lost as he dashes out the clinic door with only one arm in place. She wraps Angela in a tight hug, letting her sob harshly into her workout t-shirt.

"It's okay, it's okay," Fareeha murmurs. She brushes her hands through Angela's hair softly. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

Angela violently shook her head no.

"Come back to our room, with me. Isn't it the Eurovision finals for Europe? We can watch those," Fareeha murmurs.

She nods, sniffling.

* * *

Fareeha blinks wearily as Angela nudges her awake.

"Can it wait?" Fareeha groans. She'd been home for barely five hours, body sore and bruised from the last mission she'd agreed to take before going on paternity leave with Angela.

"Fareeha," Angela whispers. "Fareeha, it's important."

"Yeah, yeah--I'm awake."

"I'm hungry."

Fareeha sighs, sitting up and clicking on the bedside light. Angela bats her eyelashes innocently, hands on her belly. "What do you want?"

"Raclette cheese. And pickles. Many pickles--the spicy kind McCree brought back from America." Angela 'accidentally' slides her nightgown up a little to highlight the bump. "Please?"

"Gibraltar is barely seven square kilometers minus the base and it's three AM, where am I supposed to get--" Fareeha cuts herself off when she notices how dangerously watery Angela's eyes have gotten.

"Please, _schäri_?" Angela whispers, blinking fast to keep from crying.

Fareeha tugs the duvet off herself and sighs. "Of course." There had to be something in the mess hall, or at some 24-hour store. She'd get something to work.

Anything for Angela and the baby.

* * *

Fareeha is elbow-deep in the guts of the Raptora, doing maintenance in the workshop, when McCree pokes his head in.

"Is this going to be a regular thing, McCree?" Fareeha sighs.

"Now whaddya mean by that?"

"You intruding on me to tell me something about Angela. Tell me, why are you so often near the clinic?" Fareeha wipes the grease on her hands off on a shop rag.

"Ya do know the rest of us have to go through check-ups after a mission, right? Not all o' us are married to the doc and get a free pass. But, anyway, she wants to see ya. Said it was real important. Not, y'know, urgent, jus' important." McCree stuffs his hands into his jeans' pocket. 

Fareeha nods and tosses the rag down. "Understood."

* * *

Angela is sitting behind her desk, tapping a pen against her lip and frowning, expression pinched.

Fareeha knocks on the doorframe as she enters, slouching against the wall. "McCree said you needed me?"

"Oh!" Angela brightens when she notices her wife in the door. " _Ja_ , come here." She gestures for Fareeha to kneel in from of her.

Fareeha obeys, crouching between Angela's knees hesitantly. Angela smiles and cards her fingers through Fareeha's hair, touch lingering over the beads braided into her hair. Suddenly, one of Angela's hands flew down to yank one of Fareeha's up to her belly, sliding it beneath her shirt.

There, faintly, Fareeha can feel soft fluttering under the skin, a rapid little volley of motion.

"She's very active today," Angela whispers. "Made it difficult for me to focus."

God. That was their baby. Their baby moving inside of Angela, strong and healthy and god, Fareeha didn't know she could love something as much as she loved their baby. She didn't know it was possible.

Fareeha didn't realize she was crying until Angela was gently daubing at her cheeks with a tissue. "I love you," she whispers.

"I love you too." Fareeha softly presses a kiss to Angela's belly. "And you, too, little one."

* * *

The emergency alarms go off at two in the afternoon on a Sunday, Athena calmly explaining there was an intrusion on the first floor near the training facility.

"All team members report to your stations immediately," Athena repeats placidly for the fifth time.

Fareeha is clicking the last portion of the Raptora on in the armory when a thought finally snaps her out of emergency mode.

"Where is Angela?" she yells over the klaxons.

Zarya picks up her graviton cannon from its case with a huff. "Where is her station?"

"Medical evac," Fareeha says, swallowing down her panic. Angela is a trained, highly regarded professional who'd been in Overwatch longer than Fareeha had and had years of field experience. A very pregnant, much-slower trained, highly regarded professional, who couldn't even fit in her armor and the Valkyrie suit anymore, because she's six months pregnant and--

Fareeha loads the Raptora's OS and powers the suit on as an explosion rattles the building.

"Go," Zarya says confidently. "I will watch you." She hefts her gun up. "We will find Mercy."

* * *

Fareeha hates being grounded like this, unable to fly or even hover, but she needs to find Angela, and Angela is here in the bowels of the building, where the hallways are too narrow for Fareeha to do anything but jog through them, Zarya alongside.

Angela isn't in the clinic, either. By now dust from the explosion--wherever it was--has filtered into the ventilation system, making everything hazy. The lack of visibility makes it slow going, combing through the building.

"Intruders spotted on second level, main hangar," 76 growls over comm. "Talon. Just grunts. Means Reaper or Widow may be around. Watch your six."

Their quarters. Angela was supposed to be on her lunch break when the alarm went off, and she'd been so sleepy lately that she'd started taking naps whenever possible.

Fareeha turns on her heels and gestures for Zarya to follow her down the hall, towards the living spaces.

The dust is thicker this way, the halls almost heavy with how much saturates the air. Fareeha pulls the Raptora helmet down fully, to cover her face.

Their quarters, too, are empty, but the bed is in disarray and Angela's shoes are neatly lined up on the floor of her side of the bed. Whatever happened, Angela had been here. Frantically, Fareeha dials the code to the lock box Angela kept the Caduceus staff and her pistol in. If Angela had left voluntarily, she'd have taken those, surely—the box opens with a click, and there’s the staff and the pistol, nearly tucked away.

Fareeha’s heart sinks.

Zarya settles a hand on Fareeha’s shoulder. “Come on.” She presses her comm on. “Zarya requesting all agents on comm report with locations.”

“Pharah reporting,” Fareeha says, gripping her launcher tighter. “First floor, residential. Zarya with me.”

“76 checking in. Winston’s with me, main hangar. Winston, is, uh… unavailable right now.” A roar in the background that must be Winston makes it obvious he was too busy raging to reply.

“Ana checking in. Training area.” There’s a loud pop of gunfire. “Now hostile-free. You’re welcome.”

“D.Va reporting! MEKA engaged. Garage Bay 1.”

“Lúcio comin’ at you. With D.Va at Garage Bay 1.”

A cheerful bell-jingle echoes through the comms. “Orisa online. Garage Bay 2.” There’s a more staticky, deeper-pitches series of beeps and zwee noises. “Bastion would also like you to know they are active at the entrance to the conference hall, escorting civilian employees out.”

“Torbjörn here. Armory workshop.”

“Who’s missing?” Zarya asks, frowning.

“Mercy,” Fareeha says immediately. “And McCree.”

“Orisa, support Bastion with escort. Everybody else, start combing through the base. Widowmaker, Reaper, and Sombra may be around, so be on watch,” 76 says decisively. “Most of the vanilla operatives have been picked off, so you shouldn’t find much. If you find Mercy or McCree, let us know. 76 out.”

Zarya grunts out an agreement and turns her comm off. “Let us find your wife now.”

* * *

“Yeah, jus’ aim it like that, and yer golden,” McCree mumbles, lolling his head on the makeshift pillow Angela’s made from her lab coat. "Gotta a lotta blowback, though, watch out or you’ll hit yerself in the face.”

Angela tightens her grip on Peacemaker resolutely. McCree needs her. She won't let him die in this storeroom, surrounded by cardboard boxes.

The heavy footfalls are getting closer and closer, gunfire going off erratically, and Angela can finally tell that there’s two different sets of footsteps. Whatever or whoever came through that door, she had to be ready to kill. The idea itself was nauseating, the images of the Talon agents McCree had… dispatched earlier enough to send her stomach rolling again. She used to have a stomach of steel when it came to gore, but lately anything above a basic laceration had her kneeling over a biohazard bag in a trash can.

There's creaking as whoever's on the other side of the door tries to pull it open.

"You'll do fine, sweetheart," McCree assures. His voice is faint, blood loss finally catching up with him. Angela flicks the safety off.

There's a loud cracking noise as some sort of explosive goes off against the storeroom door and it gives way.

Angela holds steady, unwilling to shoot blindly in the dusty haze left by the explosion. "Stop or I'll shoot," she shouts. She longs for a flashbang, or one of McCree's stun grenades, anything to give her the upper hand.

"Angela?" The voice is soft and familiar, and as the dust settles Angela finally recognizes the signature blue of the Raptora.

Fareeha. Safe and alive and perfectly whole, Zarya standing resolutely behind her.

Angela clicks Peacemaker's safety back on and sets the revolver at McCree's side, rushing to hug her wife. "Oh, _härzli_. Oh."

"Are you okay?" Fareeha asks, cupping Angela's face in her palm.

"I'm fine, but McCree needs medical attention. Is the clinic clear?"

"Dusty," Zarya warns. "But no hostiles. You took out all those men in the hallway, McCree?"

McCree grins loopily, teeth covered in blood. "You betcha. Took that damn spider to get me."

Fareeha's smile vanishes. "Widowmaker was here?"

"'Was' is the key word. Reckon she's gone by now, though I got a nice shot in her shoulder."

Fareeha presses her comm on. "Pharah reporting. McCree and Mercy found, McCree is wounded. McCree says Widowmaker was present, he got her in the shoulder."

Angela can't hear what the response is, but she can imagine Jack giving his usual curt military orders.

"Storeroom next to temp staff quarters." Fareeha pauses, scanning McCree over. "Understood." She clicks her comm off again. "Orisa is on her way to make sure the clinic is still clear. Is he safe to move?"

Angela nods. "He was hit in the trapezius. He needs fluids, possibly a transfusion, more than anything."

"Good." Fareeha puts on the blank expression Angela knows is her professional face, and adjusts her grip on her rocket launcher. "Let's go."

* * *

The little apartment isn't much, just a mile away from the watchpoint, their official new HQ. It's almost identical to their old quarters on base--including its tiny size, though it at least had two separate bedrooms--but it has a kitchen in it and a crib that Torbjörn built for them.

Surprising Angela with it was Ana's idea, and as loathe to admit that her mother was ever right about anything, Fareeha knew it was going to be great.

Angela didn't want their little girl growing up on the base--not for the first few years, anyway. If Overwatch had another disastrous ending, or when Talon inevitably tried to attack again, at least their daughter would be safe. Fareeha had to admit Angela was right.

"Thank you for dinner," Angela murmurs, pressing a kiss to her wife's cheek as she sat down on a bench opposite the building. She sighs and runs a hand over her belly. "Sorry I'm so slow."

Fareeha laughs and sits down next to her. "Can't say I blame you. She's about six pounds now, right?"

Angela nods before she tucks her face into Fareeha's shoulder. "Almost ready to meet you."

There's a quick flash of light, the telltale reflection from a sniper's scope, from the top of the apartment building. Fareeha resists the urge to roll her eyes. How like her mother.

Of course Angela is as sharp as ever, and notices it too. "Are we being followed?" she asks, suddenly tense and anxious.

"Come on," Fareeha sighs, helping Angela up, twining her arm around her waist. "I wanted it to be more of a surprise tonight, but Mother clearly can't wait." She leads Angela up the stairs and into the elevator of the building, dialing in their security code.

Angela smiles, but says nothing.

When Fareeha finally gets to the door and unlocks it, Ana is climbing into the apartment through the window, smirking.

"Welcome home," Fareeha says.

Angela claps her hands together excitedly. "Oh, _schäri_ , it's wonderful. It's perfect."

"It was my idea," Ana says smugly, sliding her rifle onto her back. "I told you she would love it, dear."

At that, Fareeha does roll her eyes. "Of course you take full credit."

"It's lovely, Ana," Angela says. "I love it." She manages to give Ana an awkward side-hug, her belly too big to let her do more than that.

Ana beams and strolls to the front door of the apartment. "See you later, _ḥ_ _ab_ _ī_ _bti_ ," she says. "You're welcome."

Fareeha just rolls her eyes again and tugs Angela closer. "I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

Angela hasn't been comfortable in two weeks, complaining to Fareeha that her daughter was far too active and that her belly was too big for her to find any comfortable position. Fareeha normally gets woken up at six AM on the dot by Angela, who inevitably wants an extra pillow for her back and some pancakes.

When she gets shaken away at three, Fareeha is disoriented.

"The baby is coming," Angela whispers, grinning ear to ear. "Contractions."

Fareeha rolls out of bed quickly, jamming her feet into her shoes. "Do we need to get to the base?"

Angela nods, hands on her belly. "Please. It will be some time, but I would like to be there early."

* * *

Fareeha and Ana are both kicked out of Angela's room in the medbay after the fifth hour of labor.

Fareeha scowls as she flops down next to her mother, arms crossed over her chest. “ _This is your fault_ ,” she hisses in Arabic, something they only do when they’re trying to have as private of a conversation as possible in a highly-populated pseudo-military base.

Ana innocently blinks at her, pulling a thermos of tea from her bag and pouring herself a travel mug full. “ _You were the one who made it into an argument,_ _ḥ_ _ab_ _ī_ _bti_.”

“ _You told me I was making the wrong choice by not leaving Overwatch, while my wife is in labor. I have a right to be angry_.” Fareeha’s eyes narrow, but Ana just demurely sips at her tea.  “ _There is a time and a place, mama_.”

“ _I just want better for your family than what I gave you_.” Ana sighs.

“ _Well, Angela and I are not you. The world is different now. Overwatch is different now. And it’s not like going back to Helix would be any less dangerous_.” Fareeha tries to coil back her anger.

“ _I know. It is just…. Difficult for me, not to see myself in your place_.” Ana gulps down her tea, and Fareeha knows it’s just an avoidance tactic.

“ _Mama,_ ” Fareeha whispers, unfolding herself to sit down next to Ana. “ _I know you wanted a different life for me. But I chose this, and so did Angela. We made our own choices_.”

Ana sniffles slightly. “ _I know. It’s just very hard for a mother to let go_.”

Fareeha tucks herself alongside her mother, head on her shoulder. “ _Do you think if we tell her we’ve made up and promise not to argue again she’ll let us back in the room?_ ”

Ana laughs. “ _Child, you’re lucky she hasn’t threatened to kill you yet. Let her have some alone time._ ”

* * *

Fareeha wishes deeply she could have made some fantastic, sentimental speech her first words when Angela let them back into the room and, there, nestled up in a soft blue blanket was their daughter.

But instead, all Fareeha can say is “Oh,” and gently, reverently brush her fingertips over their baby’s forehead. She’s perfect, so small and pink and new to the world.

Angela smiles. “We did quite well, I think.”

Fareeha just presses a kiss to Angela’s forehead, brushing her bangs back behind her ear as she sits down next to Angela. Hesitantly, she bends down to kiss their baby’s forehead too, suddenly terrified of how small and fragile their daughter was, of how much she needed them both. They were a family now. They all needed each other.

“Did you tell your mother yet?” Angela whispers. Of course even nine hours of labor and childbirth weren’t enough to make Angela forget, Fareeha should have known. Fareeha sighs. “It was your idea, Fareeha, she will be so excited,” she chides.

“Mum,” Fareeha says, gesturing for her mother to step closer and finally get a good look at her new granddaughter. “Come meet Hanan Ana Amari.”

Ana's teary-eyed when Angela tugs the blanket down so she can better see the baby. "She is beautiful, Angela.” Ana wipes at her eye quickly, blinking furiously. “Of course, I expect nothing less from a grandchild of mine. Especially from one with my name.”

Fareeha rolls her eyes. “Mum.”

“What? First you tell me retiring to the beach was wrong and I had to come back, now I’m not allowed to compliment my granddaughter?”

“Mum, you faked your own death for years, you didn’t retire. And you didn’t go to the beach! You went back to Egypt!”

“Mm, but there was sand and I was quite close to the Nile. Close enough.”

“That does not make it a beach!”

Angela hums and sighs, tucking her daughter closer to her. “ _Don’t worry, love,”_ she whispers to Hanan in Swiss German. “Mama _will stop soon enough_.”

That does the trick, as Angela had hoped, and both Ana and Fareeha stop to stare at her, the exact same pinched expression on their faces.

“I thought we agreed on English being her first language,” Fareeha says huffily.

“And _I_ thought we agreed that there’d be no more of this ‘faking your death’ fighting,” Angela says primly. “Now, somebody take her. I just spent nine hours delivering your daughter. I would like some sleep.”

Fareeha moves to take Hanan, but Ana is faster, reflexes sniper-quick despite her age. Ana grins and settles the baby in her arms. “You’ll get your turn,” she whispers, heading towards the recliner in the corner of the room. “Take care of your wife.”

Fareeha exhales heavily, but dutifully sits back down next to Angela, who is halfway asleep already. “I love you,” she murmurs, curling herself next to her wife.

Angela gives a crooked little smile. “Love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> When you re-emerge from spawn after dying as Ana she just says some of the saddest things, let that poor grandma have a vacation on the beach like she deserves, Blizzard. She deserves it. 
> 
> Hanan means compassion/mercy in Arabic, because I'm not imaginative and thought that was hilarious when I picked it. Also, this baby is gonna have one hell of a mish-mashed accent. 
> 
> Gibraltar is such a tiny country, where is this massive Overwatch base located? It's not even 3 square miles? Did Overwatch just take control of the entire country? BLIZZARD EXPLAIN. 
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://officialclaricestarling.tumblr.com) | play overwatch with me @ clstarling#1290 | talk to me on discord @ claricestarling#4370 (just say you're from ao3 if you wanna talk, I love chatting w/ y'all & I take prompts!) | | [deleted]


End file.
